


Cousins Not, Brothers Not, These are His Sons

by Bofur1



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, I Nearly Cried, Pre-Bofa, Telepathy/Empathy, Terror, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Bofur1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They couldn't be close enough to him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cousins Not, Brothers Not, These are His Sons

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdûl:  
> Mên ikhf oikrid = I feel no trust  
> Mênu otûm = You are not bold
> 
> I got my information about Bofur and Bifur's height from 'The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey Chronicles II'
> 
> Now please, excuse me while I go burst into tears. T_T

Bifur paced restlessly upon a balcony overlooking the field where the Battle would soon take place. His mind was racing, trying to process his many anxious thoughts.

Perhaps it was because of the axe episode, but Bifur’s sensual acuity was different from the others. He could well-nigh _smell_ each emotion emanating from the members of the Company. He’d had this ability for years and at first it had scared both him and his cousins. Then they had become accustomed to it; by this time they almost thought of it as entertainment.

Strangely enough, Bombur, who wasn’t all that eloquent, had been the one to give Bifur’s special gift a name. He called it _bund-dûm_ , ‘head delving’, because of the way Bifur seemed to read minds. The Broadbeams were the only ones who knew of it and they preferred to keep it that way.

Now, however, the emotions were at their peak and Bifur’s ability wasn’t feeling fun or amusing. He was unsure of what to do with his burdening knowledge.

Each time he drew near one of his comrades it seemed to him that there was a static crackle of dread jumping from their hearts into his. It concerned Bifur. His friends would not fight well if their minds were fogged by fear.

In Bifur’s mute opinion, they should have given the Elves and Men at least a chest or two of gold. There was a lot of treasure...in fact, Bofur and Bifur, miners with the knowledge of many a jewel, had never seen so much. Never. So certainly a little could be spared? The King under the Mountain said no. Thorin’s prideful anger took hold as he faced off with Thranduil and the Lake Man. Looking on, Bifur felt a jolt of urgency in his heart. Something was changing in Thorin.

It had remained subtle before, lying dormant out of Bifur’s mental reach, but as he listened to their King he detected it: something fiercer, even fiercer than Thorin’s usual wrath. It was like a thorny dragon’s tongue had twisted around their King’s, making him frenzied and feverish with lust. It was like...an illness.

Bifur knew the others had likely noticed it as well, but his eyes went deeper than theirs. Bifur recognized the fire in Thorin’s face. He’d seen it before.

As he paced on the balcony, Bifur searched his hazy memories, trying to remember where he’d seen such thirst and greed. He froze as a thought grenade exploded in his mind. _Thrór_. Thorin had looked like Thrór.

Bifur spun on his heel and dashed toward the Company’s temporary meeting room. He needed to see his family.

When he skidded into the room, Bifur’s stomach lurched at the suffocating emotions. It seemed as though time were being stalled, every second strangled by the ill sense of dread. Bifur found it hard to walk for the heaviness of his limbs.

Bombur was picking through a plate of meager rations. By the expression on his face Bifur could see that Bombur was trying to comfort himself, trying to believe that he would be there to live on the other side of the battle. He could feel the worry in Bombur from yards away. He could see the questions passing through his mind. _Would he live or die? What would happen to his family afterwards?_

Bofur was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, knife and wood in hand. He wasn’t making much progress on his carving, for his hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t form the right strokes. Bifur was shocked by how thin and ashen-faced Bofur looked at this moment. Bofur had no thoughts for Bifur to see. He simply wasn’t thinking anything at all.

Bifur approached them quietly and stood in front of them. Bombur looked up and Bifur lurched inside. There was no hope in Bombur’s eyes whatsoever.

“ _Mên ikhf oikrid,_ ” Bifur said softly. “ _Mênu otûm_.”

Bombur leapt to his feet, clamping his hands around Bifur’s shoulders in a harsh grip. “You don’t understand, do you? Do you want to know why I’m not bold? Well, I’ll tell you. We’re going to die, Bifur.” Bombur shook Bifur as he repeated vehemently, “ _We’re going to die!_ All of us!”

Bofur rose as well, mutely prying Bombur’s hands from Bifur’s arms. Once that was done Bofur spoke. His voice was almost inaudible. “There’ll be no good in arguin’ with each other.”

“He doesn’t get it!” Bombur cried. “The axe just can’t let him see!”

Bifur felt a stab of hurt at Bombur’s words and he took a step back.

“I think he sees just fine,” Bofur answered. It seemed there was more he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to word it. At last he took a shaky breath. “We’d best get armor on. Th’ Battle won’t wait fer th’ unequipped Broadbeams.” He turned.

Bifur caught the edge of his cousin’s shirt and yanked him back, pulling him into an embrace. Bofur was four-foot-eight, three inches taller than Bifur, but he pressed his face into Bifur’s shoulder.

Bombur stood by, staring at the floor, until Bofur pulled him into their small circle. There they stood, simply staring at each other.

Until now Bifur hadn’t been affected by the emotions he sensed, but when it came to these two...he couldn’t help it. This could be their last moment as a family. He couldn’t suppress a sob and then the dam broke. Tears streamed down Bifur’s face as he pulled his boys into his heaving chest.

As he wept into their hair Bifur felt his thoughts grow clear, clearer than they’d ever been since the axe. These were not his cousins, nor were they his brothers. These were _his sons_ and in this Battle he might lose them forever.

They couldn’t be close enough to him now.


End file.
